


Letters to Rachel

by kiahood



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Letters, Moving On, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiahood/pseuds/kiahood
Summary: [Set after the finale of Life is Strange] We all deal with trauma differently, but we all deal with it. Chloe has never been good at talking about her problems, so after the storm, Max suggests her to write down her thoughts and feelings. Just like she had documented her life in her journal to Max after the latter had moved away, Chloe decides to write to the one she was missing now - Rachel Amber.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield & Chloe Price, Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price, Rachel Amber & Chloe Price, Rachel Amber/Chloe Price
Comments: 14
Kudos: 17





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Just a 5-part story about Chloe Price and her journey after the events of Life is Strange.

10/12/13

Dear Rachel,

I’ve been sitting here, staring at this blank piece of paper for an eternity now and still don’t know what to write. So I’m writing this. Funny, because this isn’t the first time I’m writing a letter I will never send. Sorry, you’re not the first.

It’s bittersweet, with the focus on bitter, to write in this journal again. Didn’t even know I still had this thing until I found it under one of the seats in my car. The last time I wrote in this was to Max - you know, my best friend who ditched me after my dad died and I needed her the most? That’s the one. Back then I thought that was my lowest point in life. Turns out I was wrong. Fuck.

Anyway, Max and I are back together, whatever together means, and she suggested I use this journal to write down how I feel about the things I’m not ready to talk about. A ‘way to cope with the 5 stages of grief’ as she called it. Lame, but it kinda reminds me of that one time you gave me a therapy session in my car. Guess this is the continuation of that. 

I don’t really know how to begin this thing and honestly, I’m feeling more crazy writing to you than just keeping it all to myself. And frankly, I don’t wanna talk about shit. So just a warning: I don’t know if I’ll actually go through with this. Don’t be surprised if I ever just… stop writing.

Like I am now because my hand is shaking. FUCK. Sorry, I… is this really reality?

Chloe, the Upset

* * *

10/14/13

Dear Rachel,

Sorry about that messy start. I’m not good at this. But I guess you won’t judge.

A lot has happened in the last week and it all still feels like a dream. The craziest dream, I might add. Remember when I told you about me seeing my dead dad and talking to him? Yeah, that’s what this feels like too. Maybe I really do suck at moving on, especially since right now, just thinking about the last week feels so insane that my brain immediately tells me it’s all fake. But enough of that; let me just tell you about this crazy week and maybe you’ll understand why it feels like some sick dream.

First of all, I died… 5 times. That’s right. Chloe Price, setting a record for most often dying within a week. At the end of it all, I am still alive. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Even being alive doesn’t feel real at the moment, so I can’t say yet whether this is good. Anyway, I bet Rachel Amber can’t wait to hear all about the many ways death has tried to claim me.

Starting with the first one a.k.a the worst one in terms of how and where. Because where else would one want to go out than in one of Blackwell’s bathrooms? That’s right, I had my d-card taken from me in a public bathroom in the shitty school that couldn’t handle me, and being shot by Nathan Prescott. I’m sure you would laugh about that one. If you’re wondering about the reasons why… well, you know all about it. Shit, I really can’t even write about it. I think I need a break.

Chloe, the Undead

* * *

10/16/13

Dear Rachel,

Moving on to the second time, which is probably the most embarrassing one from the list. It all happened in the junkyard. I had the great idea to steal one of the guns from my step-douche’s stash. What else is he good for if not to give me some nice toys? Thought I’d have some fun and play around with it. Send Max to collect bottles that I could shoot, but that was only temporary entertainment. Gotta keep shit interesting, right? Anyway, told her to give me some new targets. She told me to go for the bumper of one of the cars. Stupid bullet came right back to me. Definitely not my proudest moment.

Anyway, the third time happened not far from there, on the train tracks. You know those movies where the characters lie down on the train tracks and just talk about everything and nothing? Yeah, we did that. You would’ve loved that... Back to the dying part: my stupid boots decided to get stuck. Of course, a train had to come. 

Death number four might be my favorite: I died in an alternative timeline! That’s right. A timeline where my dad didn’t die. Instead, I had a car accident (which I survived, but it landed me in a wheelchair). Wasn’t really alive there, since I was super paralyzed and could basically only look, hear, and talk. Boring. Asked Max to put me out of my misery. Like a good friend, she accepted. 

My fifth and final death happened once again in the junkyard. The place that used to be my secret escape has really turned into the most shitty place there is. Maybe it was my mom’s sixth sense that led her to never wanting me to go there in the first place. Maybe I should’ve listened to her more… sorry, I’m getting off track. Point is, I got shot by that stupid Mark Jefferson. Can’t believe I thought he was hot the first time I met him. I always aim for the worst guys. Call it my superpower. Okay, this one is actually difficult to write about. Fuck.

Chloe, the Bad Boy Magnet

* * *

10/17/13

Dear Rachel,

Kinda left you on a cliffhanger there, huh? If you’re wondering why he shot me... Well, Max and I found out his secret. We had connected all the dots and finally found what we had been searching for all week long: You.

I’ll never get that memory of digging through the dirt in the middle of the night out of my head; digging and digging until we reached you. I felt so sick. Threw up on the ground next to it and cried my heart out. Now it feels like some fucked up nightmare. Was that really real?

All this time, ever since the first day I couldn’t reach you after all my attempts of calling you, I had stayed hopeful. The prospect of you leaving Arcadia Bay without me pissed me off, but anything was better than the idea of you being dead. And even though that memory is now burned into my head forever and I still feel my stomach twisting just thinking about it, it just feels unreal. Are you really gone?

Chloe, the Insane

* * *

10/18/13

Dear Rachel,

Oh, and if you were wondering how I managed to die so many times and still be here, while you only died once… Max returned as Super-Max. 

The same Max as before, only this time with magic rewind powers. A whole other topic that makes my head spin.

Thought she was high the first time she told me. But it’s true. Girl could really just rewind time without anyone noticing.

The first time it happened was when she saw me get shot in the bathroom (death #1) and then woke up back in class just before it happened, this time able to save me, hence I didn’t die, after all. Same for all the other deaths. Max always rewound time and found a way to keep me from dying. She also had a vision of a tornado that wiped out all of Arcadia Bay. That all started last Monday. The tornado happened on Friday. She could’ve prevented the tornado, could’ve prevented the town and everyone in it to be destroyed. But instead, she chose me. ME. Can you believe that? Maybe that’s why it all seems so unreal. To think my best friend was suddenly back with superpowers, helping me find you and trying to save the town all in one week, only to end up sacrificing everything and everyone for my stupid, ungrateful ass.

Anyway, we hit the road. There wasn’t anything left in Arcadia Bay for us. Literally. So we left like we all had wanted to all along.

I keep thinking I will wake up one day in my shitty room to my normal shitty life. Maybe the drugs have gotten to me and that’s why old people keep preaching about the dangers of drugs. But it hasn’t happened so far. That’s why Max suggested I write all this down. To just get those thoughts out of my head. Make them real. Understand that this is reality. I don’t understand it. I just feel so lost. Even more so now that I wrote this. Who would even read this junk? Certainly not you, because apparently you are very much dead. Last time I checked, the dead don’t read. Sorry if that’s offensive. Not that you can read this apology. Again, it feels like I will run into you again and realize I made all of this up.

Can I really continue writing to you? My head feels funky. Maybe I should throw this whole journey out.

Chloe, the Confused


	2. Anger

10/21/13

Dear Rachel,

Haven’t really used this journal in a hot minute. Life on the road is busier than I would’ve imagined. The car needed upgrades here and there as we mostly stay in the car, so we constantly try to improve it.

Anyway, working on the car gave me some time to think. And you know what? I’m pissed. I know I’m always pissed at everything and everyone. Today, I’m pissed at you. That’s right - you. We came by this rest stop that had an ad for a local Shakespeare play on the door, so I thought of you. 

Ironic how I keep running into people with superpowers. At first, I wondered what your reaction to Max and her rewind powers would be and then I remembered that night you set a whole forest on fire. It’s still so vivid to me… how you set that photo of your dad on fire and threw it in the trash and then you kicked the trashcan and screamed so the whole world could hear. I’m convinced your scream is the real reason that fire spread as much as it did. Maybe it’s just me going crazy, but that was some WEIRD shit. Point is, you started it and no one ever knew why it spread so much. So now that I know superpowers are a thing, I’m putting the whole blame on you. Because fuck it, that’s why. And you know what? I don’t feel like explaining.

Writing doesn’t help, no matter what Ms. know-it-all Max says. I gotta go smash some shit. 

Chloe, the Enraged

* * *

10/23/13

Dear Rachel,

Not to be that person and put deep meaning into everything, but this weird-ass theory crossed my mind that the tornado that wiped out everything and everyone in Arcadia Bay was caused by you, too. Like you’re the Queen of Storms.

Not so strange, is it? To think that you would want to wipe out the entire town that has brought you nothing but pain. You wanted to leave, anyway. And then you learned about all your family drama bullshit and then you trusted that stupid prick, Nathan Prescott. You didn’t even tell me about that. You didn’t tell me shit, actually. I thought we were close, Rachel. But you never cared. NEVER. No one was good enough for you. So you couldn’t even trust ME, the person you wanted to skip this bullshit place with. Didn’t tell me about Mark Jefferson. Didn’t tell me about how fucking close you were with Frank. Shit… now I kinda feel bad for Frank. Couldn’t even tell him the truth about you because of the storm and… well, maybe you two met again in heaven or wherever you ended up. Not that I care. And if you feel bad about Frank - don’t. Because guess what? Your storm did this!

Everyone is fucking DEAD because of YOU! Shit, why did you do it?

Chloe, the Furious

* * *

10/30/13

Dear Rachel,

I know you went through so much, but just because Arcadia Bay is was a shit town, doesn’t mean you should destroy all of it.

My mom, for example. She didn’t deserve to die in that diner.

I’m not just blaming you, though. I’m blaming Max, too. She knows this. Because she made that choice. I told her not to. Oh right, guess I didn’t really mention it. But we realized on the day of the storm that with her rewind powers we could prevent it. Only problem - she would have to sacrifice me. The reason I survived my five sweet deaths was because Max rewound time every single time. Can you believe someone would go through so much for me? Me neither. She could’ve gone back in time to that first time into that shitty bathroom and just let me die like I should have. Then that tornado never would’ve come to wipe out the entire town. But she couldn’t let go of me and somehow her feelings are more important than everyone’s lives.

So I’m blaming you both. You for causing the storm and Max for sacrificing the town for me.

Almost everyone died. Clearly, Max and I made it out alive. Step-douche and some others were in that stupid bunker, so they made it out, too. I don’t even care. My mom is dead. Fuck you. She went through so much shit, put up with all my bullshit… I’m even glad now she had step-douche to keep her company while I was out being a stupid teenager. But she deserved so much more. She lost so much when my dad died and now she lost her entire life.

‘The whole world is a stage’ my ass. For some reason that was always your motto. Wherever you went, everyone had to be pulled into your drama. Sorry, your life sucked, but we all have our own problems, too.

This sucks so hard.

Chloe, the One Who Should Be Dead

* * *

11/03/13

Dear Rachel,

Maybe being angry makes no sense when blaming you for being angry. But you know what the difference is? All I wanted was to find you. To make sure you were okay. Meanwhile, you decided to just kill everyone.

Shouldn’t you move on after death?

What did I ever do to you to deserve the pain you’re putting me through???

You took EVERYTHING from me. You better not expect me to forgive you. I used to think you were just this raging force, but in the end, you’re like the wildfire you started - burning down everything.

This might sound like a strange concept to you, but what’s worse than being burned alive is to watch your whole world around you burn. Now it’s just me and the ashes.

Chloe, the Unburned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


	3. Bargaining

12/25/13

Dear Rachel,

It’s been a while, huh? Reading through my last entries is hella cringe. So no, I’m not mad anymore. Not right now. It’s Christmas, anyway.

Everywhere we drive it’s so festive and people are joyous as fuck. This is my first Christmas without my mom and it feels… so fucking strange. All the stupid presents I’ve ever gotten from her seem like priceless treasures now.

While everyone’s busy stuffing their face with festive food and unwrapping their presents or whatever normal families do, my mind is filled with only one question: What if?

What if none of this had happened? Where did life go wrong to end up as this inevitable crap? Is there really no universe where we all get to just live? Have my dad be alive - without me being paralyzed that is - have you be alive, my mom be alive, the entire town of Arcadia Bay be alive.

It doesn’t seem too much to ask to have one town be alive without being destroyed by some creepy guy, an overly rich family, and a stupid tornado, yet somehow that’s the case. Max tells me to try and look forward, but how, if everyone I’ve ever known is dead?

It’s kinda making me mad, though mostly upset, seeing kids run around outside with those stupid grins on their faces. I can’t help but wonder whether they will ever go through anything like we have, which makes me wonder why bad shit happens to some people while others just get to go through life without constantly being thrown under the bus.

What if we were those lucky ones that just got to live?

Chloe, the Questioning

* * *

01/01/14

Dear Rachel,

New year, new me? No, that’s not how it works. Everybody knows that, yet they still write down their stupid resolutions, neglecting the fact that none of them had ever stuck before, either.

I thought that saying goodbye to the last year would somehow change things. Max and I were on the outskirts of some town, watching the fireworks from the roof of the car. All the colorful fireworks people lost their shit over just seemed so hollow. Maybe it was because we were on the outside looking in that caused it all to seem so far away.

As cheesy as it sounds, I actually made a New Year’s wish. To be able to go back and change things for the better. For all of us. I don’t believe in wishes, but if only one could come true, I wish it could be this.

Chloe, the Wishful

* * *

01/12/14

Dear Rachel,

Why did this happen, Rachel? What did we do to deserve this? In my previous entries, I put a lot of the blame on you. Stupid. Obviously, you didn’t deserve this, either. You didn’t deserve to not have your parents tell you the truth about your birth mom and then lie to you saying she took money rather than seeing you when in truth, she refused the hush money from your dad, who went as far as to hire a fucking dangerous drug dealer to keep her hooked up just so she wouldn’t see you. I wonder whether telling you about that after I found out was the right decision. You know, considering you only lived for a little over 2 more years after that. Maybe letting you believe your dad was at least somewhat honest instead of being the biggest douche in town would’ve made things easier for you. Shit.

Unfortunately, we can’t all rewind time. Well, Max can’t rewind time anymore, either. Apparently she was only given a free five-day trial. But if I did, would I go back? Would that make a difference?

Chloe, the Regretful

* * *

02/03/14

Dear Rachel,

My last entry has been haunting me ever since writing it. 

Tell me, Rachel, do you think it’d be possible for me to go back in time and make everything right?? Remember my amazing performance? You know, the one you forced me into? I did alright going into that play only mildly prepared, in true punk-rock fashion. So maybe being given the role of fixing every mistake that town had to face would be right up my alley.

Fuck… now I really wish I could go back.

I mean, how much worse could it get? It can’t.

Every day I just wonder how different life would be if you were still alive. If you had never become Nathan’s victim. To think you died because he accidentally gave you an overdose… What a screw-up. Somehow, I can’t hate him. I would, and I did, especially during my I-am-so-angry-at-everything period. Then Max showed me the voice message he had sent her on the night of the last Vortex Party. He admitted to everything and cried about how sorry he was. I guess in the end, Nathan Fucking Prescott was as much of a victim as the rest of us. We all should’ve seen it coming. Who else to end up in his place than the rich kid with daddy issues. Of course, it would be Nathan who would fall into the disgusting hands of Mark Jefferson and his disturbing fantasies and then fuck it all up even more on his first try. He never got help, either. How much pain would’ve been prevented if the adults of Arcadia Bay had just taken us seriously?

And how different would life be if my mom were still alive? I just want to tell her I’m sorry, you know? Sorry for being such a screw-up ever since dad died. Just because I didn’t know how to deal with that and because dad was my hero. But mom was my hero, too, so why did I let myself treat her like some evil villain? I guess I was also feeling a little hurt when she let step-douche into our lives and not just leave our family unchanged. It wasn’t her fault, even though I also blamed her for years.

Huh… guess I keep blaming those around me. And then I feel bad about it when I realize all of us could’ve used some help. Wish I would’ve realized that sooner.

So what if, Rachel?

What if?

Chloe, the Uncertain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	4. Depression

03/11/14

Dear Rachel,

You know how I said I keep blaming everyone for everything that goes wrong in my life? Now, I’m blaming myself. Even though leaving Arcadia Bay was always my goal, now that Max and I are actually on the road with nothing to look back on, it feels like we’re driving on this endless road... 

Where are we going?

Where will we stop?

What will we do?

Why are we here?

I don’t know, but it feels like there is just no point.

Oh yeah, and it’s my birthday and I feel guilty for even having one when I’m the one who should be dead.

Chloe, the Lost One

* * *

04/26/14

Dear Rachel,

Have you ever felt… absolutely nothing? I think I did after my dad died. My whole world was falling apart then and in a way, a huge part of me died with him. Don’t get me wrong, I was always a trouble maker. But before my dad died, I had my parents and Max. I was never alone. And then my dad died and Max moved away and suddenly I felt nothing. I replaced that nothing, like most teenagers, with stupid bullshit - drugs, piercings, tattoos, boys.

At first, cruising through the country with Max felt like a nice change of scenery. What better way to get over the trauma of losing everything and everyone than to just run away from it all?

Turns out the past is faster and is starting to catch up. I can’t really eat lately. Max and I usually stop at small places along the way, but right now every dish reminds me of my mom and how I’m the reason she’s dead. She deserved so much better than me.

Sorry, mom.

Chloe, the Worst Daughter

* * *

07/22/14

Dear Rachel,

Lately, my sleep is filled with nightmares of everyone. Last night, I dreamed of you. I dreamed of you in that cold, empty dark room. The only sign of life came from the constant camera flashes as your semi-conscious body got photographed. As per usual nightmare logic, I wasn’t able to move and save you. But you saw me, anyway. Looked at me with that doe-eyed expression and said over and over again ‘Why didn’t you save me?”

Why didn’t I save you?

Happy Birthday, Rachel, I guess.

I woke up super sweaty just now and stepped outside without waking up Max because she always gives me that sad look when she notices I’m tripping. It’s not her fault, though, so I try to hide it from her, even though she always reassures me that we can talk about everything. I think she knows that I’m feeling funky. She’s probably woken up, too, but knows it’s better to just leave me alone. Maybe she noticed that I took this stupid journal with me.

Max makes sure I carry that stupid thing everywhere with me, in case I ever ‘need someone to talk to’ - her code of telling me to just get it all out instead of keeping it in my head.

The night sky is the same outside, no matter where we go. And it’s the same as when everyone was still alive, too. Space doesn’t care about our little problems. We’re just as small to the universe as those stars up there. Damn, now I’m crying again. Sorry for dumping all my emotional shit-pile on you all the time. You're dead and I’m still putting all my built-up teenage angst on you. Shouldn’t I just let you rest in peace? I’m the worst friend...

Chloe, the Insignificant

* * *

07/29/14

Dear Rachel,

I’m tired. Not from sitting in a car for hours on end until my ass feels numb, or from moving around all the time and constantly seeing all these new things. 

No - I’m tired of life. All of it.

Did we really want to leave Arcadia Bay and travel the world? It seems so pointless now. I hate this. Hate everywhere we go. Hate everyone we meet.

Everywhere we go looks the same. I hate it all the same. Because none of this is home, it’s all just another rest stop, another distraction from the place where I actually want to be - good old Arcadia Bay. Shit.

Chloe, the Homesick

* * *

08/13/14

Dear Rachel,

Max and I had a fight. Not gonna lie, it felt kinda good. I keep trying to push her away, but she would never let me. She kept being there for me and being accepting of my stupid moods, letting me smash things or yell at people. But this time she actually stood up for herself and let me shut her out. Good for her.

We’re currently staying in this shitty motel by the beach. So I stormed out the room and headed straight for the ocean. The ocean is the same color as that weird feather earring you always wore. I keep seeing you and my mom in everything. Whenever we drive through a small town, I think of Arcadia Bay. Every place we eat at I think of the Two Whale Diner and my mom. The beach reminds me of Arcadia Bay, too.

Is it starting to rain? No, that’s just my stupid tears dripping onto these pages as I try to tune out all those noises in my head. But whether I close my eyes or keep them open - I see all of you. I hear all of you.

When we walk through busy streets or crowded places I sometimes think I see someone from Arcadia Bay, but then the realization hits me that everyone is dead. Sometimes on the road, we will pass by RVs that remind me of Frank. Frank and his stupid dog Pompidou that also didn’t deserve to die in that stupid tornado.

Why am I still here, Rachel?

You are all gone, but I am still here.

I don’t even want to be.

I never asked for any of this.

I just want it to stop.

Chloe, the Lonely

* * *

08/17/14

Dear Rachel,

Today, I haven’t left this bed. It’s just the small motel room with the ceiling that desperately needs more and more fixing the longer I stare at it. But you don’t care about the ceiling. ‘What about you and Max?’ you’re wondering and don’t worry - we’re good. I came back from the beach and apologized. Even gave her this weird stone that’s shaped like a little heart that I found on the beach as some kind of peace-making. It worked. I think she might like that stupid stone more than me. I don’t blame her.

Anyway, the reason I’m lying in bed is because of this stupid headache. I still can’t really eat and I also really really can’t sleep.

Max has been hinting at the option of me seeing a therapist.

Like a therapist could help me. They wouldn’t understand anyway. How everyone around me has superpowers and still all of us fuck up the same. How I wish I had superpowers so that at least I could blame myself for not being able to use them properly.

Besides, the whole reason this journal is getting so much attention is that I can’t even really talk to Max. Right now, I don’t have the energy, anyway. Even moving is a full workout. Not sure when I last showered. And I mean REALLY showered. When Max doesn’t drag me in it and puts the water on for me and then leaves me to sit in there for a few minutes like I’m the dirty laundry until I’m done and she helps me out again.

I’m like a baby. And also like an old person, because I can’t function by myself and everything keeps hurting.

Chloe, the Mess

* * *

08/22/14

Dear Rachel,

All this time I keep focusing on myself. But what about Max?

She’s so great to me through all of this. Right now, life is kind of just passing me by. Like when you’re putting a movie on in the background while doing something else and only pay attention to 25 % of it or so.

But Max is hurting, too. She’s the one that made the decision, after all. She lost friends in that town, too. And she tried so hard during that week to save everyone. Shit… she’s probably having it so much harder than me.

I wish I knew how to be a better friend instead of being such a burden. 

Maybe she’s just sticking with me because everyone else is dead. Would she be with me if things were different? Would she rather travel the country with someone normal, like Warren or Kate? Shit, Kate… Max went through so much trying to save Kate. They all deserved to live. And yet, the world is stuck with incapable old me.

Chloe, the Awful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ^_^


	5. Acceptance

09/19/14

Dear Rachel,

It’s been a while since my last entry. You must be wondering whether I’m still alive or not. To be honest with you, for a long time it felt like I wasn’t. And not gonna lie - it’s still shit. But I’ve been sleeping better, some nights even without nightmares and the ones where bad dreams do result in me waking up drenched in sweat, I look to the side and see Max sound asleep like nothing bad exists in the world. A lie, but it works. Gets me back to sleep for a few more hours. I’m starting to be able to look at food without getting sick with the thoughts of my dead mom and her amazing cooking skills that I never openly appreciated enough in the last few years.

I’m not openly appreciating the food we eat in the many diners we come across now, either, but that’s because none of them compare. Not my fault they don’t know how to make the most delicious pancakes the Two Whale Diner had. And yes, sometimes I’m that asshole customer that complains - which usually earns me a kick in the shins from Max. But I also see her smiling about it no matter how much she tries to hide it. At the end of the day, she’s glad to see that badass Chloe is still alive.

Chloe, the Food-Critic

* * *

09/21/14

Dear Rachel,

Lately, the air seems so much clearer. It’s getting easier to breathe, which sounds like total poetic bullshit, but it’s true. Not every stranger reminds me of people that are long dead and not every building we come across reminds me of one of those shitty buildings in Arcadia Bay that I always hated, yet my brain suddenly decided to miss like hell. Instead, strangers are strangers and buildings are buildings.

Some of those strangers are even hella cool. Most of them aren’t, but now we can just say ‘Fuck you’ and leave with absolutely no consequences. Feels good. You would’ve loved that.

Being in a different city almost every day is actually really refreshing now. The times where someone or something reminds me of Arcadia Bay it actually makes me feel more at home than it makes me feel depressed. I still wish that you were here, that my dad were still here, that my mom were still here… but instead of letting those thoughts take over me, I use them to feel grateful for still being around. 

Ever since my dad died, it felt like the whole world was out for me, trying to put me down in every way possible. Everything felt shitty, empty, or unfair. Now, I get to try out new things, see new places, make new experiences. Even though it’s just Max and me, I’m feeling less alone than I have in the past few years. Is this what healing feels like? Shit, maybe Max was right… don’t tell her that I said that, though.

Speaking of the devil, it’s her birthday and I’m gonna take her to some gallery and then treat her to some fancy burgers. I like seeing her giddy face looking at photos and showering me with facts in what feels like a completely different language. It’s the small things in life, and for the first time in a long, long time, I’m able to see them.

Chloe, the Grateful

* * *

10/11/14

Dear Rachel,

People really do change. You almost wouldn’t recognize me now. First of all, because I got my sick tat partially covered up. Just wasn’t feeling it anymore. I think part of me died along with everyone else in Arcadia Bay and I just didn’t want to be that ungrateful, bitter person anymore. Also as a reminder of who I used to be and who I’ve lost along the way. 

Don’t worry - I’m still looking hella awesome. My hair is a little longer, and a little less blue. The real change isn’t any of that, though. It’s far more out there and unbelievable. You would probably laugh! But Max and I actually visited step-douche. And no, I actually don’t call him that anymore. Shit, if you could see him… the man really did change. Kind of a hippie now. He lives in this little community of people living in trailers in the middle of the desert. He’s chill now, almost like a completely different person. He’s really trying, though, and I’ve begun to actually be grateful for him. Grateful that he made my mom’s life a little less awful in her last years, and grateful that he tried. He even apologized for his extreme methods. Not everyone has the balls to do that, and I never would’ve thought David would. But he proved me wrong. It’s almost like a miracle and that coming from the girl who sorta died 5 times within one week.

David’s really supportive with everything. We talk a lot on the phone. It’s nice to have someone else other than Max who went through the same shit, you know? Anyway, we stayed with him for a while, too, and it’s actually really chill there. But Max and I want to travel the country, so we left again with the promise to visit once in a while.

She’s documenting it all with her camera, of course. Usually, she takes photos of people or the scenery, whatever attracts her photographer eyes. But sometimes, she combines both our art forms by taking photos of the mark Chloe Price leaves on the world - graffiti for days.

At first, she kept telling me to stop vandalizing shit. Eventually, she stopped. I think she developed a liking for my art. I knew she had it in herself to appreciate the real fine arts of the world.

While I try to keep it interesting and let inspiration guide me, every once in awhile I’m just putting a little ‘Rachel was here’ to bring you along.

Today marks the one year anniversary since the storm.

I’m sorry you never got to leave Arcadia Bay and become an awesome model. But maybe this world wasn’t ready and most definitely did this world not deserve you. But you deserved the world. Fuck, it’s all so unfair. I hope that one day, somehow, you can forgive me for not being able to save you. Maybe it’s selfish of me to say this, but I’m starting to forgive myself.

The world doesn’t seem to be out to get me anymore. Instead, the world is just a place full of people trying so hard to be happy, even when they hurt others in the process sometimes.

As much as I would love to go back again, even if for just one day, I’m looking less behind me now and focusing more on what’s ahead. Max and I are never standing still. Maybe it’s not a perfect world, but we’re making it our world - in true Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver fashion are we taking the world by storm. And even when the storms get higher and try to sink our ship, us mighty pirates keep conquering it all side by side.

This isn’t a goodbye because I’m not letting go of you or anyone else. I still stand by the fact that this world is broken for what it did to you. I will never forget you or what you’ve done for me, but I am spending less time being hung up on you. Less time wishing you were still alive and with me - though at heart I’ll always still want that. Instead, I am learning to heal and learning to live again.

Maybe Arcadia Bay was never the problem. Maybe it was just us being teenagers who didn’t know how to talk to people and deal with our pain. Maybe life is strange like that and we just have to learn to appreciate the good parts of it. I don’t know. And I probably will never know. And you know what? That’s okay. Instead of fighting life, I’m starting to just be - something that is far more relaxing than I ever would’ve thought. Crazy, huh? Guess I really am turning into an old fart now. Damn the passing of time!

Wherever you are now, I hope you find closure like I found mine.

Rachel Amber, thank you for being a part of my life, and may we one day meet again.

Chloe, the Less Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this far: Thank you so much!  
> I hope you enjoyed this little story about Chloe's journey from right after the storm to one year after. I really like the journal-style from Life is Strange and thought it would be a fitting way to document what she went through after the events of the first game.  
> Hope you enjoyed! ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading<3  
> Not gonna lie, the real experience is reading this in the actual font they used for Chloe's handwriting and listening to the Before the Storm soundtrack.


End file.
